His Tears

How enormous must our souls be, how great our power, that our Father who loves us so dearly, watches from above, as we walk through our lives. We chase after imagined clues, fumbling for answers at wise questions we only partially understand yet claim as our own. We leap high, grasping at mediocrity, missing gems that have been hidden since creation, that lay before us in the dust at our feet. Crowing with delight, boasting that we have played the game well, fed our bodies, titillated our childish attentions, conquered enemies of mythic proportions, we ignore our brother who lies starving at our feet, refusing to cease our feasting give him the crumbs from our victory banquet, proudly complaining of stomach pains. We grasp at false hopes, struggling to climb towards mountains of lies that we built from desires and appetites bloated beyond recognition. How great must our power be, how enormous our everyday lives, if our Father does treasure them so. It must be, though my mind staggers, that order for Him to allow us our freedoms, He stands aside to watch us blunder and fall, even tragically die. Worse yet, we lay claim to greatness in our deeds, roaring in triumph at meaningless achievements that horrify our souls and cut so deep. So great is His love that he saves us the pain. And still He stands aside. Our Father cries as we blunder along, and sometimes, I pray, He cries tears of joy, treasuring our mitzvas. The very same mitzvas that we cast aside as worthless trinkets of little meaning, He picks up, wipes off the dust and presses them gently to His breast. I only hope that His tears of joy are enough to wash away the tears of sadness.
Sometimes it is not a matter of doing more. Sometimes it is a matter of realizing how important the good is that you already have done and how important the small kindnesses are that you can do, if you bothered.